


Competitive Spirit

by MlleMusketeer



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Fingering, Gags, Humilliation, M/M, Mild Painplay, Mild S&M, Objectification, Oh Primus So Sticky, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Referenced Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Plating, Sticky, Stuffing, hobbling, multiple overloads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 19:52:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleMusketeer/pseuds/MlleMusketeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus and Megatron are both warframes: large, with large fuel reserves and a high tolerance to prolonged physical exertion and physical stress. </p>
<p>They are also both incredibly stubborn.</p>
<p>Obviously, this carries over to the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competitive Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I can guarantee there is no plot in this one. You may all proceed to be shocked and horrified. 
> 
> (Contains objectifying dirty talk--if that's not your thing, better skip this one.)

“What an inspiring sight.”

Optimus stared up at Megatron, jerked in his bonds as Megatron touched the control of the remote and the thing in his valve increased its vibrations. He lowered his helm, kneeling only because of the restraints that shackled his wrists above his helm, and panted through his dry intake. Megatron had taken great glee in forcing it open and inserting a gag that kept it that way for whatever purposes he might see fit. 

Just the thought of it made Optimus’s valve clench, brought further attention to the fluids trickling down the inside of one thigh. 

“You seem to be enjoying it too,” said Megatron, grinning. Optimus tensed as he paced around him, out of sight. The brush of Megatron’s field up his spinal struts forced a whimper from him, and a clawed hand closed over his aft, a finger trailing deliberately over his panel. Optimus jolted, tried to close his legs and couldn’t, not with the bar shackled between his knees. “You’d be wide open if you could, showing that pretty wet valve to the entire world. Whatever would your Autobots say, if they saw you like this?”

Optimus moaned, tried to thrust his hips back into Megatron’s hand, wishing he _could_ open—but Megatron had placed an inhibitor over the edge of that panel and held the only control to it in his hands. 

Megatron leaned forward, nuzzled Optimus’s audial. “If you begged—very, very eloquently—I might be inclined to have mercy, frag you here and now and relieve you of that—” his fingers stroked over the panel, a little more pressure, and Optimus tried to grind down against them to get a little relief, “—troublesome charge. And that would be exactly why I gagged you.”

He stepped back and away, turning his fingers as he did so the bladed tips scratched the panel and Optimus flinched at the sudden sting. 

“After all, Prime, I’m not here to please you,” Megatron said. There was a click of an opening panel and Optimus had a moment of wild irrational hope, tried to shift his weight so he could offer himself better—

—and Megatron came back into view, stepped in close and took Optimus by an audial fin, a painful grip. 

“I’m here to _use_ you.” 

Optimus turned pleading optics up to him. Megatron chuckled and pushed his spike into Optimus’s gaping intake, holding him still with his grip on Optimus’s audial fin. Optimus tried to open more to accommodate it but it was simply too big. Megatron withdrew, then thrust lazily forward again, optics narrowed with pleasure.

“Today,” said Megatron, and the next thrust was hard, “today, I want you wet and open when I take your valve. I want you ready for me. I want you to know that all this—” he thrust rapidly now, and Optimus tried desperately to do something, anything, to better please him, “—all this is so I can enjoy you the way I want to, my pretty toy.”

Optimus whimpered. 

“Perhaps—” Megatron’s ventilations grew ragged, and he withdrew from Optimus’s intake. “Perhaps next time, I’ll have you wear that little toy all cycle, have it in your valve reminding you of what will happen the moment that door closes. Have you spend all cycle knowing you’re being prepared for me.”

He reached over Optimus’s helm and deactivated the tether holding his arms over his head. Optimus sprawled headlong, only barely managing to catch himself on his elbows. 

Megatron flipped him over, held him there with a pede on his abdomen and smirked. His panels snapped open, and liquid puddled under his aft, his aching spike erect and his valve open and clenching. 

Megatron straddled him, one hand pinning his arms over his head. “Optics open. Look at me, Optimus.”

Optimus looked up into red optics and a smirking grin, and Megatron reached down, tracing patterns over his abdomen, working his way to Optimus’s opening. Optimus’s vents got faster. Megatron’s grin broadened, as he skirted the base of Optimus’s spike and circled the soft protometal around his valve, then rubbed the flat of a finger over his anterior node.

Optimus bowed and whimpered under him. 

“Sensitive,” said Megatron. “So soft and sensitive and helpless.”

A finger thrust into him, hard, without warning, and then quickly another with it.He could feel Megatron move in him, grasp the vibrator and withdraw it, still buzzing. 

“Very useful,” said Megatron with a smirk, and set it aside. He slid his fingers back in, examining Optimus thoroughly. 

“I think you’re ready,” he said. “So slick and eager. You like this, don’t you, being held down and helpless and at my mercy as I do what I wish to your lovely frame. Maybe I should take you in front of your Autobots. Make you forget yourselflike this. Show them what their Prime really is.” The spreader between his legs was freed with a hard jerk, and Megatron settled in its place, lifting him and arranging his legs around Megatron’s waist, the tip of Megatron’s spike nudging his anterior node. Another hard thrust and his fingers withdrew. 

Megatron raised him again and held him like that, the tip of his spike pushing into Optimus’s valve.His hands tightened on Optimus’s hips, silent reminder of his strength, and then he laughed low and shoved forward. 

Optimus cried out. Megatron leaned forward over him and took him, used him as he wanted, and Optimus squirmed and gasped and whimpered under him, the huge broad spike hitting him just right, stretching him wide.

Megatron ceased talking, and his thrusts became ragged and hard, jolting every mechanism in Optimus’s frame as they collided, hands holding him immobile and unable to do anything but await the next one, unable to rise to meet him. 

He whimpered and panted and cried out, tried to move to make the huge tension building in him release somehow, somehow—

Megatron slammed into him hard and held himself there and the jolt of current from him made everything come undone all at once. Optimus cried out, frame bowing, and collapsed into a shuddering, strutless heap. 

Megatron moved again, and Optimus let out a low wail at the stimulation on his over-sensitized array. Megatron paused, the longer connective period transferring another jolt. Optimus whimpered and squirmed. Megatron made an approving noise and withdrew entirely. Claws seized Optimus and flipped him onto his front. Megatron seized him, yanked him back onto his spike. 

“Admit your defeat, Prime,” he hissed into Optimus’s audial. He cut the strap holding the gag and pulled it free of Optimus’s intake, surprisingly gentle.

Optimus swallowed, panted, too mazed to form words.

Megatron thrust, vents coming fast. When he spoke again, it was strained. “Now, Prime!”

Optimus shook his helm and fixed his gaze on the floor, feeling the charge build fast inside him as Megatron used him, claws digging into his hips, snarling irritation at his disobedience. 

The transfers of current became larger, robbing the processor of coherent thought, and then Megatron stiffened and stopped moving, the surge of his overload slamming into Optimus’s circuits even as Megatron’s transfluid filled his valve. Optimus went over the edge again, then into a hard reset.

* * *

 

When he onlined again, he was on his front, and Megatron was looking at him with a most unsettling light in his optics, and the charge dampener in his hand. When he saw Optimus’s optics were online, he reached for the tether that had held Optimus’s arms over his helm. 

“Now,” he said, “There is the small matter of your disobedience. It seems our first three rounds have had very little effect on that.” He moved forward, hooking the restraints around Optimus’s wrists to the tether again. “Admit your defeat, Prime…or we start again.”

Optimus lowered his optics, checking his readings. Fuel levels were within acceptable parameters, as were all joints, and his interface systems were already quite online. He glanced up again, and allowed himself an ever-so-slight smirk. 

“Never,” he said, and braced his knees apart as Megatron moved forward.

 


End file.
